


Mistaken Identities

by ink_stains



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Dream Sex, Drinking, F/M, Game Spoilers, Gossip, Humor, Mistaken Identity, Oral Sex, Prostitution, Recreational Drug Use, Semi-Public Sex, Sex, Sexual Humor, Swearing, Wall Sex, Wet Dream
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-10
Updated: 2018-10-22
Packaged: 2018-11-12 13:10:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11162517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ink_stains/pseuds/ink_stains
Summary: Maxson needs to get laid. And he's not going to fuck around with someone under his command. So he makes the only sensible decision and decides to visit everyone's favourite den of inequity, Goodneighbor, and find someone to spend the night with. But he crosses paths with an ex-gunner and a lanky ghoul in a strange outfit who feel like playing tricks on this ruggedly handsome douchebag.





	1. Chapter 1

Maxson had briefly considered Diamond City but knew the risks would have outweighed any benefit. True, it was the biggest settlement within a hundred-mile radius of the Prydwen but that was its problem, it was too close. He had no doubt that he could have found what he needed there. However, he would have also found an unacceptable amount of Brotherhood Soldiers with spare caps, loose flies, and even looser tongues. Gossip is a dangerous weapon, and not one he was willing to fuel.  
He wasn’t blind, he was more than aware of the indiscretions of his subordinates even if they had convinced themselves otherwise. But he’d be damned if he let his men get even a whisper of his shore-leave activities. So Goodneighbor it was. He scowled against the cold as he paced through the back-alleys behind Diamond City. He pulled at the collar of this new and unfamiliar jacket, his trademark coat rolled and neatly packed at the bottom of his back-pack, his replacement doing nothing to protect him from the biting wind that whistled through Boston.  
Goodneighbor.  
Fuck the Commonwealth. Fuck a shithole like Goodneighbor being his best option. Intel was surprisingly scarce on the details. He had a fair idea of the layout but knew little of the inhabitants. Apparently, it had some kind of abomination as its mayor and its claim to fame was a reputation for selling top quality guns, chems, and sex. Further recon had provided more information on the local bar; it had top-shelf booze (i.e. someone bothered to certify that it was alcohol and not repurposed fuel) and some kind of singer, although Maxson wasn’t there for the music.  
The entrance to Goodneighbor was small and dark with the tall buildings and narrow streets offering a sense of anonymity. He had memorised the layout provided by overhead surveillance and already knew the way to the bar. He walked with purpose, his shoulders back and his head held high. Sneaking was not in his repertoire, and he had often found that any attempt to be discrete only succeeded in attracting more attention.  
A few people lingered outside the entrance to the bar and a ghoul wearing a faded tux told him to behave as Maxson descended the stairs into The Third Rail.

 

Maxson had only done this a handful of times and on those occasions luck, more than anything, had provided. But this was new territory, and he was picky.  
He swirled his drink, the ice clinking delicately as he considered his next move. He used the mirror behind the bar to scope out the room; there were a handful of groups here and there, a smattering of lone men and women with the odd ghoul dotted in the crowd. It was a delicate business, and for his many talents, subtlety wasn’t among them. No. He was going to have to ask around. His gaze fell on the wiry man set next to him.  
“Ex-Military?” He asked, eyeing the stranger’s faded green coat and belt of .308s around his thigh.  
“What’s it to you?” The stranger shot back with a wary look. Maxson put his hands up in mock surrender.  
“Just looking to buy a fellow soldier a drink, and get some info while I’m at it.” Offered Maxson.  
“Are you coming on to me?” The man asked through a toothy smirk.  
“No.” Maxson responded curtly “Not my type.” He added in what he hoped was an apologetic tone.  
“Ah. I thought my wily charms had ensnared another one – name’s MacCready.” He offered his hand, gunpowder and burns littered his fingers and Maxson resisted the urge to wipe his hand on his trousers after shaking it.  
“Arthur.” Lying was another one of those things that brought more attention than it deflected. “So was I right?”  
“Yep. Ex-Gunner.” MacCready saluted sloppily. Maxson frowned, while the Gunners weren’t exactly a Brotherhood priority their reputation had already preceded them all the way to the citadel.  
“Is there such a thing?” He asked.  
“Well, despite their best efforts, you’re looking at one so I guess so.” MacCready shrugged and smiled.  
They spent a short while discussing their preferred rifles while MacCready smoked a battered cigarette. The Mr Handy robot who had served Maxson when he first came in was at the other end of the bar, and Maxson’s glass was empty.  
“You there. Ghoul.” Maxson snapped his fingers at the figure bent behind the bar. The ghoul straightened up, a bottle of whiskey in hand, and pointed at himself.  
“Who, me?” he asked innocently.  
“Do you see another ghoul back there?” Maxson asked as he took in the strange figure, tall and gangly he wore a faded shirt with ridiculous frills around the neck, a U.S. flag tied around his waist in some sort of make-shift belt.  
“No.” The ghoul said, cracking a wide smile, “but then I am absolutely off my face and my eye-sight ain’t all that great, sweet-heart.”  
Maxson grunted in response.  
“I’ll have another double,” he tapped his glass “and MacCready here will have… whatever.” Maxson didn’t see the ghoul raise his eyebrows at MacCready who offered a bewildered shrug in return.  
“Sure why not, kid.” The ghoul’s voice was like nails down a chalk-board and Maxson supressed a shudder.  
“An atom bomb baby… John. Thanks.” Macready said with the smallest of hesitations.  
The bottle made a satisfying clink as it touched the edge of Maxson’s glass.  
“That’s 40 caps, kid.” John asked with a crooked smile, holding his gnarled hand out, Maxson dug into his pocket and put them on the counter, purposefully avoiding touching the ghoul.  
“So what can I do you for?” MacCready asked. Maxson wanted to wait for the ghoul behind the bar to leave, but he seemed intent on joining their conversation, leaving the ridiculous Mr Handy to tend to the other customers. He turned on his seat, his back to the ghoul, and resting his arm on the bar, he surveyed the Third Rail.  
“I’m looking to make a purchase.” He said diplomatically, tilting his drink towards a group of average looking women.  
“Ah.” MacCready said as the ghoul placed a drink in-front of him. Maxson glanced at it before raising a questioning eyebrow. The ex-gunner was holding tall glass filled to the brim with some kind of pink and green fluid, it smoked slightly and MacCready had to blow the top of the glass to see its rim. Maxson said nothing.  
“So, what are you looking for?” MacCready asked as he licked his lips. “Male? Female? Both? Tall, small, skinny, fat? Blonde? Brunette? Or something a bit more exotic?” He nudged Maxson with his elbow as a ghoul wearing something that resembled a dress winked at them. Maxson’s eyes bored into MacCready.  
“Okay, okay, strictly vanilla. Sheesh!” MacCready shook his head.  
Over the next hour the ex-gunner detailed the sordid ins and outs of the Goodneighbor population. Occasionally the ghoul would interject with unwanted and explicit details of his own dealings with many of the men and women that the gunner pointed out.  
  
“Picky ain’t ya?” John said.  
“I have high standards ghoul.” Maxson replied curtly, his fifth double loosening his tongue “I prefer my partners to be intact.”. A wicked spark of inspiration flashed across the ghouls face and he shot MacCready a conniving smile.  
“Well, I suppose you’ll be wanting a pre-war gal then?” John asked innocently.  
“I believe I already said no ghouls.” Maxson rumbled as he started to lose his patience with the barman.  
“Oh no, no. She’s not a ghoul.” MacCready grinned, catching on. “No, she’s pre-war alright.”  
Maxson’s brow furrowed as he looked at the pair incredulously.  
“I tend to prefer them under 200.” He growled, it was the closest thing to a joke he had made all evening. The ghoul laughed and slapped the counter before leaning over the bar.  
“Nope, this one, she’s something special. Can’t be a day over twenty-five.” He rasped, and MacCready nodded in agreement, spilling some of his drink on his jacket.  
“I heard Vault Tech put a bunch of them on ice. Froze her for 200 years like a damn meat-popsicle. How about that?” the ghoul’s voice was low as he whispered in a conspiratorial tone.  
“Yup.” MacCready said, “I saw it as well, up past Concord in the North, creepy as hell.”  
“Fuck Vault Tech.” The ghoul shook his head, and on this, Maxson agreed.  
“Pre-War?” Maxson said darkly. “You expect me to believe that?”  
“Look,” MacCready said and called over a pretty woman in a red dress. “Magnolia! Come here a sec.” The woman had been standing by the small stage, and on hearing MacCready’s voice she raised her hand and sashayed over to them.  
“She’s the singer. Voice like fuck-, sorry, friggin’ sex.” MacCready slurred apparently unaware of Maxson’s disinterest in his choice of words.  
“RJ MacCready I already told you I’m not going to touch it.” she began in an exasperated tone.  
“No, no it’s not that toots.” The ghoul laughed gently and winked at her as he cracked open another bottle of whiskey and poured Maxson and himself very large doubles.  
“We just wanted you to back us up to our friend here.” MacCready said swinging his arm around Maxson, Magnolia raised her eyebrow in response.  
“Go on.” MacCready shook Maxson’s shoulder, while Maxson resisted the urge to punch him. “You ask. That way you can’t say we tried to trick you.” He poked Maxson’s chest with a long finger as he knocked back the remainder of his drink.  
“Arthur.” Maxson offered his hand, and when Magnolia gave hers in return he brought it to his mouth and kissed it gently.  
“Magnolia.” She smiled “Charmed. Now, what am I supposed to be confirming? That these two are trouble?” She laughed softly, her voice like velvet.  
“I had that figured out already.” Maxson smirked, admiring the curve of her waist in the small red dress. “These two are trying to convince me that there’s a non-ghoul pre-war woman walking around the commonwealth?” Maxson asked, and much to his surprise the woman in front of him blushed heavily and hid her eyes beneath her heavy fringe.  
“Oh, Blue?” She asked coyly.  
“They froze her didn’t they?” MacCready prompted eagerly.  
“I don’t know what they did to her darlin’ but, my oh my, Nora is something.” She paused, “A real diamond in the rough.” Her dark eyes found Maxson’s and she winked at him. Maxson nodded in thanks and watched the sway of her hips as she turned and left.  
“What I wouldn’t give to see that woman naked and-” MacCready’s cheeks were ruddy and his words slightly slurred.  
“I think Arthur here’s got more of a chance with Magnolia than you.” John interrupted MacCready as he leant over the table and punched him lightly on the shoulder.  
“A man can dream.” MacCready shook his head and appeared to sober up slightly. “And look, talking of our favourite blue lady, there she is.” He nodded across the room to the stairs that led into the bar. Maxson turned and suddenly it was as if the room was empty except for her. The crowded and smoke filled room seemed vast and empty, an infinite distance between him and this woman.  
She had an hourglass figure that had been poured into a black dress. Maxson’s eyes trailed down the curve of her neck to the soft milky-white skin of her cleavage. Her hair was pinned into a messy bun with loose tendrils framing her face. She was absolutely beautiful.  
“Friggin’ stunner isn’t she?” MacCready grinned in Maxson’s ear.  
The ghoul made an appreciative noise behind them, “You can say that again.”.  
The three men watched as she descended the stairs. As if sensing she was being watched her eyes scanned the room and met Maxson’s for a moment before flitting between the ex-gunner and the ghoul. A warm smile spread across her face and she offered a small wave, her long fingers dancing delicately. Maxson nodded and tilted his drink while MacCready and John waved back.  
Magnolia intercepted her at the bottom of the stairs and both women blushed beautifully as they kissed each other on the cheek. Magnolia whispered something in the stranger’s ear and pointed in their direction.  
Instantly MacCready and John looked away and tried to pretend that they had been doing something before she caught them staring. Maxson did not look away, and he felt his stomach flip as she held his gaze despite the blush rising from her neck.  
She did not come over straight away. Instead she made her way slowly across the room, stopping to talk to individuals as she went. She seemed completely unaware of the way in which heads turned to follow her across the room.  
The music had got louder while a ghoul fiddled on stage preparing the microphone for Magnolia. Maxson put his hand over his glass to stop the barman topping him up. MacCready slumped in stool and hiccupped into his 3rd atom bomb baby. Lightweight. Maxson thought, not unkindly.  
“Well go on then if you’re not gonna have another drink.” John said as he swallowed a mouthful directly from the bottle.  
“She’s expensive.” MacCready practically giggled, but Maxson wasn’t concerned about cost.  
“Thank you…both.” He said, begrudgingly nodding at the ghoul as he put a fistful of caps on the table. “I think that should cover the drinks.” And he walked over to the stranger in the black dress.

 

“Hancock?” MacCready said unsteadily as Maxson walked out of earshot. He slurped messily at his drink, his hat perched unsteadily on his head. Hancock took a long drag on a jet canister he’d found in his pockets a few moments before.  
“Yep?” he said eventually.  
“How fudged are we when he finds out she’s not a hooker?” MacCready asked uncomfortably.  
“Pretty fudged.” Hancock replied gravely. A heavy silence settled between them until MacCready spoke in a small voice:  
“But he’s got such big hands.”  
Hancock nodded in silent agreement, and then with a wide grin, he poured two shots and handed one to the ex-gunner. The unlikely pair toasted and knocked back their shots before grimacing at the taste.  
“Not gonna lie kiddo," Hancock said as he lent on the bar "I’m more worried about what she’s gonna do when she finds out we were the ones who told him.”  
“Fuck.” MacCready said simply before they both doubled over with laughter.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maxson and the Pre-War woman get to know eachother better before heading off to the VIP room to discuss business.
> 
> Magnolia sings.  
> MacCready feels uncomfortable.  
> Jared hasn't got time for your shit.
> 
> I hope you own soap because things are about to get dirty.

She saw him walking towards her and felt a thrill run through her. He exuded a confidence that made her shiver in anticipation. Out the corner of her eye she saw him walk past her, and she tried to ignore the feeling of disappointment.

He saw her trying not to look at him, and he liked it. He had thought about approaching her directly, but that wouldn’t be as fun. Also, he’d found that most liked their clients to come with a recommendation, even better if it came from another woman.

“Magnolia.” His voice was low and firm, and she turned to look at him and smiled graciously.

“Well, hello again Arthur.” She purred “Are you staying to hear me sing?”

“Of course.” He replied “But first I had a favour to ask of you.”

“Oh?” she replied.

“Would you introduce me to your friend?” and he motioned at the woman in the black dress.

“To Nora?” she asked, a mischievous glint in her eye “But of course darling, you should have said before. She’s quite something, isn’t she?” and they both stood and admired the pre-war woman as she bent over slightly to talk to someone sat at one of the tables.

“Yes.” He was trying not to imagine what she looked like bent over like that without clothes on. “I actually had a…a business proposal for her.” He said diplomatically.

“Ah, wonderful she will be pleased. Although I will warn you,” and she leant in towards him in and spoke in a soft conspiratorial tone “You’ll have to pique her interest. She doesn’t just go with anyone you know.”

“Do you doubt my ability to pique her interest?” Maxson growled back good-naturedly.

“Not at all darling.” And she smiled approvingly “Not at all.”

She linked her arm through his and guided them through the crowd towards the mysterious woman.

“Nora.” She called softly, the pre-war woman turned and Maxson was taken aback by just how beautiful she was.

“I’ve found a potential companion for you,” Magnolia said, “this is Arthur.” And patted Maxson’s arm.

“Pleased to meet you.” Nora said coyly. Maxson loved it when they pretended to be shy. He tilted his head and smiled. Her voice was soft and her accent unlike any he had heard before.

“Oh look,” Magnolia said as a ghoul beckoned her back towards the stage “My audience awaits. Play nicely you two.” She shot them both a knowing smile before walking away from them.

“So what can I do you for?” Nora asked, a polite smile dancing on the corner of her mouth. Maxson glanced around, in previous haunts he had sat with the women in a dark corner, hands wandering in the half light, his beard grazing their ear as he told them exactly what he planned to do with them. But the Third Rail was still too new, too open, the risks unknown. Also, she looked the type to blush easily, and he wanted good lighting to appreciate that.

“I would prefer if we discussed it in private.” He said and put his hand to the small of her back, causing her to jump slightly. He guided them towards the bar.

“Is there somewhere we can go?” he asked.

The warmth of his hand on the small of her back felt as if it was spreading through her. She fought down a blush as they walked towards bar. She briefly considered the Rexford but didn’t want him getting the wrong idea, although she wasn’t sure that the wrong idea wasn’t exactly what she wanted.

“Well, there’s the VIP rooms just around the corner there.” And she motioned with her small bag towards a door guarded by another abomination in a tux.

“Wonderful. Can I buy you a drink?” He withdrew his hand from her back and leant on the bar.

She smiled and her eyes lingered on the muscles of his arms before moving to his face, suddenly aware that she had been staring.

“Thank you. I’ll have whatever you’re having.”

He raised an eyebrow. She was certainly different, a strange mix of confident and shy. And he liked it. He ordered a bottle of whiskey and two glasses from the Mr Handy bartender with the ridiculous hat and even more ridiculous accent.

“Just so you know, I don’t accept every job a handsome man throws my way.” she leaned into him, playfully nudging him with her hip. An image of him bending her over the bar and fucking her right there flashed into his mind and he felt himself stiffen against his trousers.

“I’ve been informed.” He replied, placing his hand on the small of her back again, he motioned to the ex-gunner at the other end of the bar. She turned her head and he allowed his eyes to follow the line of her neck down to her swell of her breasts. She smiled at MacCready and raised her glass in thanks, one eyebrow cocked. MacCready smiled back awkwardly and knocked back the remainder of his drink.

They lent against the bar and flirted over the first glasses of whiskey. Maxson was surprised at how easy it was to talk to her, and his eyes lingered on her lips as she spoke. He wondered what they would look like wrapped around him.

“Shall we?” he asked, motioning to guarded entrance of the VIP area. He allowed her to lead the way towards the doorway blocked by a faded red rope.

“Hey Jared, is there a room available?” she asked the ghoul guarding the entryway.

“Maybe.” Jared croaked in reply, his eyes narrowing at Maxson “Maybe not. Hourly Rate. No messes.”

“Har har! Very funny,” she brought one hand to her hip and tapped the brass pole holding the guard-rope. “Anyway, we won’t be long.” And she turned to Maxson, rolled her eyes and winked at him.

Maxson felt a heat in his stomach at her confidence. His knuckles whitened as he gripped his backpack while he debated what part of her he wanted to touch first.

Jared grunted and unhooked the rope.

“After you.” Maxson smiled and she blushed (easily, just as he had thought) and he resisted the urge to just push her against the wall and take her there. Ghoul be damned. She walked through the doorway and into the small dark corridor. She was wearing pantyhose and a seam ran from both heels up to under her dress. He felt a heat flush through him. They took the stairs in silence, the only sounds around them were their feet on the stairs, and the clinking of the glasses in Maxson’s hand.

“After you.” she mock curtseyed as she opened the door. She was very strange indeed. But Maxson, wound up from the view he had enjoyed as they took the stairs, did not care. He placed the glasses and bottle on the small table by the door and shrugged his backpack off.

“No bed?” He asked, surveying the small room.

“Did you need one?” She asked, perplexed, as she closed the door behind them. As she turned to face him he pushed her against the wall, his hips pinning her against the door.

“No.” He growled into her ear grinding himself against her.

“Oh” was all she managed before he kissed her. One hand gripped hungrily at her waist as he pushed himself against her. The other hand held her face, his fingers catching her hair as he pulled her face towards his. At first she just stood there, and then he heard her bag drop to the floor and felt her relax against him, both hands coming up to cup his face in a strangely intimate gesture as she kissed him back. For a moment, he felt like a scribe again, making out with a pretty girl in a hidden corner of the citadel.

His kisses were hard and strong and she felt herself drowning in them. She caught his lower lip between her teeth and bit gently. He groaned inadvertently, the vocalisation catching her by surprise and causing a jolt of pleasure to surge through her. She rolled her hips against him, grinding against his rapidly hardening cock. A small sigh escaped her mouth as he trailed hungry kisses down her neck. Reaching her shoulder, he dragged his teeth against her in an almost-bite and felt her shudder slightly.

“I don’t usually-” she started breathlessly and he silenced her with another heavy kiss, his lips crashing against hers. He was pleasantly surprised when she kissed him back harder, their tongues meeting as her hands wandered.

She dragged her fingernails down the front of his chest feeling the outline of his pecs and gripping the fabric of his shirt as she pulled him towards her. Maxson discarded his jacket, and then moved one hand into her hair while the other grappled at the back of her dress for the zip.

She pulled back and pushed him away slightly. Her lips were bruised pink from his, her chest rising and falling with each breath. She matched his stare from beneath her eyelashes and turned slowly, not breaking eye-contact as she looked at him from over her shoulder.

“Here.”

She smiled coyly as she moved the tendrils of hair that had come loose. Maxson stood watching as she opened the hidden clasp.

“Give me a hand?” she blushed again. She was good, very fucking good. Maxson thought briefly of the large stash of caps he had in his backpack, she was going to be worth every fucking one.

He stepped towards her, and with a tenderness he didn’t realise he had he pulled the zip down. Her bra was black, and as the zipper passed down the small of her back he saw she had a small black belt on under her dress. He kept his hands on her waist as she pulled her arms from the sleeves and rolled the dress down to her hips. She wiggled, her ass brushing against his crotch, and her dress pooled in a neat pile on the floor as she stepped out of her heels

“Ow!” She slapped his hands lightly. He had dug his fingers into her as he realised the small black belt was a garter, with little straps that reached down to her upper thighs, holding the pantyhose in place. He had seen them on posters, and other…more illicit materials confiscated by the brotherhood (for science).

“Okay?” she asked.  

“Absolutely.” He breathed. She turned to face him. Her hands fluttered to her right thigh where she removed a small butterfly knife that had been tucked neatly in her pantyhose. She flashed him a cheeky grin and he felt his cock pulse in response.

She spun the butterfly knife expertly between her fingers, opening and closing it, before throwing it towards the table, missing, and knocking one of the empty glasses onto the floor. She laughed, bringing her hands to her face and peeking through her fingers at him. He was surprised by how adorable she was in that moment, and how fucking sexy. He growled again and unbuckled his holster, discarding it next to the knife and glass on the floor. She moved towards him and started to unbutton his shirt.

His hands gripped the small of her back, pulling her towards him so he could grind against her. Small contented sighs kept slipping from between her parted lips as he pulled gently on her earlobe with his teeth. He pushed her against the door as she undid the last of his shirt buttons, he drew back so that she could help him pull his arms free. He brought his hands to her back and undid the clasp of her bra.

She moaned softly when he took one of her nipples into his mouth, flicking his tongue over and around the delicate nub. She fumbled at his belt as his mouth moved to her other nipple, one hand on her breast and the other kneading her ass.

Maxson squeezed her breast before trailing down following her curves as he gripped the back of her thigh and pulled it up to his waist. In one swift motion, he picked her up and pinned her against the wall. Following his lead, she brought her other leg up to his waist and hooked them behind him. She could feel his erection pressing against the fabric of her underwear and she failed to stifle a small moan as he burrowed his face into the curve of her neck kissing and biting at the tender skin. She traced her fingernails across the muscles of his back as his hands held her ass against the wall. Their kisses became heavier and deeper as their tongues battled for dominance. She brought her hands between them and pulled at the buckle of his belt. He gripped her waist as they broke apart so that she could slide her legs off him and back onto the ground.

Maxson was breathing heavily and he had never felt so hard in his life.

She pulled his face to hers and kissed him before trailing her fingers down his chest and to the zip of his trousers. In one fluid motion she dropped to her knees and pulled his trousers and boxers down as she went. His cock sprung to attention in front of her, but she didn’t look at it, instead, she was staring at him, matching the intensity of his gaze.

Her eyes never left his as she took him into her mouth.

“Fuck.” Rumbled Maxson as she twirled her tongue over the head of his cock. He tasted of salt and sex. She held him as she slid her tongue along the underside of his erection, her other hand tracing patterns on his thigh. He closed his eyes as he buried his hands in her hair, guiding her gently into a bobbing motion. Every now and again he would glance down at her, watching the way her lips looked wrapped around his length. Using her hands and her mouth she lavished attention on him until he began to worry that he might finish before he’d even got her underwear off. She hummed against him and he bucked involuntarily. She spluttered and instinctively pushed him away as she began to cough.

Maxson stood there awkwardly until her coughing turned to laughter. Shaking her head she turned her face up to look at him.

“You’ve got to be careful with that.” She chastised him playfully. Before Maxson could reply she took him into her mouth again. He gripped the back of her head and resisted the urge to thrust into her mouth.

Maxson had no idea what to make of this strange, funny, and beautiful woman in front of him. She made everything feel so…intimate. He was already wondering when he’d be able to see her again when she trailed kisses from his navel up to his neck.

“Silent type, are you?” She said coyly, another delicious blush rising on her cheeks.

“I’m a good listener.” He murmured in her ear as he pushed his hand into her underwear and, as if on cue, she let out a small whimper. He decided that he needed to hear that sound, that the whole of Goodneighbor needed to hear that sound.

“What was that?” he asked, his fingers barely grazing her as she arched towards him in an attempt to make contact. To make him touch her. She was shivering despite the warmth of the room.

“Don’t.” She bit her lip as she wrapped her hands around his arm, trying to push him deeper into her underwear. He resisted, and instead trailed more kisses along her neck before nibbling on her ear.

“Don’t what?” Maxson asked wickedly as he trailed a solitary finger along her folds. This time it was less of a whimper and more of a quiet moan. _That’s it._ He sucked on the skin of her neck leaving an angry pink love-bite.

“Arthur.” She pushed her face against his shoulder, releasing his arm, her hands travelling to his dick. His own name had never sounded so amazing. Now it was his turn to groan as she wrapped one hand around him and ran her thumb over the head of his cock. And then she stopped. He bucked into her hand and she loosened her grip, she looked up at him with a playful smirk. Maxson swallowed hard.

“It’s not nice to tease, is it?” She smiled at him playfully before tightening her grip on him.

“I was just taking my time.” He grinned into her ear as he traced small circles around her clit. “I like to get my caps worth when I’m paying for it.”

She stiffened against him and Maxson wondered briefly if she had come, and then he realised something was very wrong.

“Excuse me?” she said, her voice cool and hard. He drew back to look at her, reluctantly removing his hand from her underwear. She had straightened up and stood tall with her hands on her hips. She should have looked ridiculous, but she didn’t. If anything, she looked even sexier. But the look on her face said that this was not a game.

She thought she had misheard. Was convinced she must have misheard. But she hadn’t. She suddenly felt very, very naked. Her eyes flitted towards the butterfly knife on the floor. Maxson stared at her, trying to understand what had just happened.

“My caps worth?” He repeated, “I’m assuming you follow the standard time based-” and he stopped. The pieces slowly clicking into place. The ex-gunner. The ghoul…and then the realisation hit him like a charging deathclaw.

“Fuck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is literally my first time ever publishing smut, so in the words of sinners everywhere, be kind. And I know y'all are thirsty that neither of our heroes got to finish...or really start. But I promise you it's coming (hah.) Also if my attempt at humour is killing your vibe I'm sorry but that's just how I write. Maybe one day I'll be able to write something sexy without someone messing up somewhere...but today is not that day.
> 
> I think Hancock and MacCready are in trouble. 
> 
> Feedback is always welcome :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys get their comeuppance.  
> Arthur goes back to being Maxson.  
> Elder Maxson has a sexy dream.

MacCready had seen them go through into the VIP area. Hancock had disappeared off somewhere, and the ex-gunner was losing face. He had thought about trying to get through to the VIP rooms to try and…what…interrupt them? Explain it was a joke because this Arthur guy was a dick? MacCready groaned into hands. He didn’t see Nora burst through the VIP doorway, her cheeks flushed, head held high.

  
However, he did hear the angry exclamation of “Magnolia!” from the other side of the bar. MacCready watched on open mouthed, unable to hear the exchange between the two women. Magnolia had been lent against the bar smoking and suddenly stubbed out her cigarette as the pre-war woman approached her. Magnolia held Nora’s shoulders steady as the other woman spoke animatedly and jabbed her finger at the singer before pointing to herself. Magnolia’s eyes widened in shock before darkening as she frowned, her mouth forming a hard line. She shook her head and MacCready saw Nora’s stance soften as her hands came up to her face. For an awful moment, he thought she might be crying, but then he saw her shake her head, and the sound of embarrassed laughter carried across the bar over the clinking of glasses and drunken murmurs. Magnolia, however, still looked furious. She said something to Nora, and MacCready looked on in horror as she pointed directly at him.  
Nora’s laugh faded quickly as she turned to look at him. MacCready offered a weak smile and a small wave, his stomach dropping as she stormed towards him.

 

Maxson glowered at the whiskey in his glass. A flush of anger and embarrassment rose from the pit of his stomach and made him want to vomit, or punch something. Preferably the latter. He closed his eyes and swallowed hard, pushing the swell of emotions back down until he felt he was in back in control. His breathing slowed as he considered his options.  
The night could not be rescued. He had drunk too much and was no longer in the mood despite being riled up from his brief encounter with the pre-war woman. He grimaced as he knocked back the remainder of whiskey and stood, tugging at his shirt to ensure he looked presentable. He bent over and picked up the glass that had been dropped on the floor, and stopped as he saw the glint of the butterfly knife. She had left it behind in her rush to leave.

  
Mercifully, she hadn’t been angry. Just embarrassed. Maxson pocketed the small knife and made his way out of the VIP room and down the corridor towards the stairs. Suddenly he heard a great uproar from the bar, a cacophony of jeers, shouts, and whoops.  
He strode through the VIP doorway and saw what the fuss was about. MacCready was sprawled on the floor, the remains of a drink covering his green coat. He was red from embarrassment, and Maxson was very pleased to see a large red welt the shape of a hand on the side of the ex-gunner’s face. He considered adding his own mark to him but held back, wary of drawing attention to himself. Instead he caught MacCready’s eye and stared him down until the ex-gunner looked away. The look had said enough.

  
Maxson looked around for the ghoul barman, or for the girl, instead his eyes met Magnolia’s. She offered a small apologetic shrug and a slight shake of her head. It seemed she had also been an unwitting victim. Maxson gave the smallest of nods in acknowledgement and headed towards the exit of the Third Rail.  
He was not due to rendezvous with the vertibird until morning and the night’s activities had made him weary. He stepped out into brisk air and felt himself sober up slightly. Thrusting his hands into his pockets he debated whether to stay at the Rexford or head to Diamond City.

  
“You know,” a gravelly voice called from somewhere above him, there was a flare of a cigarette being lit and the sound of a long drag being taken. “You should watch the way you talk to strangers.” John the barman stood on the balcony of the mayoral building.  
“You got some front I’ll give you that kid.” The ghoul let out a short laugh, “You come into my town, into my bar…and you got the gall to talk to me like that? Tut tut Arthur,” he waggled a long gnarled finger at Maxson, “Your mother should have taught you better.”  
Maxson dug his fingernails into the palm of his hand. He said nothing, instead choosing to glower at the ghoul.  
“Name’s Hancock” He straightened up and pulled at the lapels of his long red coat, cigarette perched expertly at the edge of his mouth. “Mayor of this fine city. And you, brother, are a grade A asshole.” He took another long drag on his cigarette as he lent on the balcony smiling down at Maxson.  
“Silent type are you?” he asked and Maxson flushed at the memory of Nora asking him the same question only a short while before.  
“Hancock!” a voice called from somewhere behind the gloating ghoul, and Hancock’s cocksure smile faltered as he glanced behind him. His dark eyes flashed back towards Maxson as he flicked the half-finished cigarette butt over the balcony.  
“Sorry Romeo,” he grinned “It looks like you’re not the only one who got in trouble tonight.”  
Nora stormed out onto the balcony, and Maxson felt he could see the energy and anger sparking from her like electricity. She looked fierce, beautiful, and absolutely terrifying. The ghoul put his arms up in mock surrender.  
“Now, now Sunshine-” Hancock began soothingly before being interrupted by Nora hissing a warning in a low voice. Hancock kept his arms raised and looked back at Maxson with a wink before sauntering into the building. At that moment Nora saw Maxson standing on the street below, his hands in his pockets and a strange look on his face.  
“Arthur, -” She said softly, her cheeks ruddy from a mixture of embarrassment, anger, and cold. But she didn’t say anything else, instead she turned on her heel and disappeared into the building.

 

It had been nearly a month since the incident at the Third Rail.

Maxson tried not think of it, of her. Except he kept dreaming about her. He would wake in the night, chest heaving with heavy breaths, the sheets wet from perspiration. And he’d be rock hard. On these nights, he felt as if he was on fire. He would touch himself to the thought of her; the softness of her skin, the way her lips felt against his…the way she had whispered his name and moaned against him. He found himself regretting how little of her he had touched; how little he had tasted. On those nights, as he fucked his hand imagining it was her, he thought his head would burst with desire. Each morning he would shower and try to wash away the thoughts of her.

  
That night was no different, he dreamt of her again.

  
They were on the observation deck, he was by the large windows and she stood by the door. She told him she’d found his jacket, and that he’d left it in New Vegas. He’d tried to explain he’d never lost his jacket, and that he’d never been to New Vegas, so it couldn’t have been there.  
But then she was kissing him, the jacket forgotten, and he was just standing there. His body felt as if he were stuck in mud, he wanted to move his hands to touch her but he couldn’t. He wanted to kiss her, but he couldn’t. She laughed gently and kissed him in-between promises that she’d help him become unstuck. She brought his hand to her mouth and kissed each finger, and with each gentle press of her lips he could move again.  
“See.” She’d said without moving her mouth. She trailed kisses along his arm and over his chest, each one filling him with the strength to move his body until, finally, he was free. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into him with a hungry kiss.  
“No bed?” Someone asked, although it didn’t really matter who. And then there was a bed, just sat in the middle of the observation deck as if it had always been there. It was pre-war, the bedsheets were yellow and soft to the touch. It was their bed; he knew it with the same certainty that he knew his own name.  
They sat facing each other under the covers, the sheets stretched above them like a great tent, the gentle morning sun fighting through the yellow fabric and bathing them both in a warm and gentle light. Everything seemed slightly out of focus. She was sat in his lap and gasping in his ear although he was barely touching her, she was whispering his name over and over. He heard a voice somewhere in the back of his mind tell him that this was just a dream, but he pushed it away as he traced his fingertips up her back to undo her bra.  
Time always seemed to race and slow in his dreams, and soon it was night time, the dusky pink light casting long shadows into the observation deck. The sheets were gone but he was still undoing her bra and she was running her hands through his hair and trailing kisses along the scar on his face. Her bra fell away and he palmed her breasts before trailing his thumbs over her nipples. Her hands were on the elastic of his underwear and then they were on him. She was grasping between them and guiding him towards her as they fell together. He was over her, his straining erection pressed against her as she opened her legs to him. He couldn’t remember removing her underwear, and he let out a frustrated sigh causing her to laugh gently. He wanted to push into her, feel her around him. But he was stuck again. His brow furrowed as he pushed himself towards her, his erection painfully hard. She was gripping the lapels of his jacket (He was wearing his jacket again, how strange) and pulling him towards her. Please. One of them was begging but he didn’t know who. He gripped her waist as he tried to pull her to him, an invisible force blocking them. She arched into him, but he couldn’t move. He let out a growl as he thrust into nothing.

 

Maxson woke up.

 

He glowered into the small mirror above his sink as he washed himself. He ran a finger down the length of the scar on his face and grimaced at the feel of the puckered skin beneath. Maxson dressed in silence as he dressed, shrugging on his sheep-skin jacket and enjoying the feel of its weight on his shoulders. He pushed away the sudden image of the pre-war woman grabbing him by his lapels. Pushed away the dream, and the way her skin had looked in the light of their yellow bed. His own skin looked pale and drawn, and dark circles had appeared under his eyes. Unaware of the nature of his absence from the Prydwen a few weeks before, Knight-Captain Cade was pestering him to take shore-leave, warning that he was impacting his health if he didn’t rest. Maxson had waved him away irritably, the tips of his ears burning with a mixture of frustration and embarrassment. Unable and unwilling to discuss the reason for his broken sleep.

It was going to be another busy day, he was due to swear in a group of initiates that the citadel had sent over despite his protestations that he had an adequate amount of men.  
Maxson sighed; six new initiates from the citadel, and one from the commonwealth.

  
Paladin Danse had surprised him a few days before by advising that he had promoted a commonwealth drifter to the role of initiate, and that he was formally requesting a promotion for the individual to become a Knight. Maxson reread Danse’s Spartan report, slightly amused at the Paladin’s use of drifter as a sort of title. The drifter, Sullivan, had apparently appeared from out of the blue and aided in clearing out the Cambridge Police Station and surrounding area. Danse then listed a variety of increasingly impressive feats of military and tactical bravery, each aided by the mysterious drifter. As Paladin, Danse had the authority to undertake field promotions, but ever the soldier, he wished to confirm his decision with his Elder.  
Maxson was loathe to admit he was impressed by Sullivan’s achievements, even with Danse’s acknowledgement of the drifter’s unconventional and rather eccentric ways of working. He had requested that Danse bring the drifter to the Prydwen and join the new initiates as soon as they arrived. A knock on his door signalled that he was expected on the observation deck.

He walked in and frowned, only six initiates stood awaiting him. They were clearly citadel recruits; he could read it on them like they had it stamped on their foreheads. They saluted as he walked through them, his hands clasped behind his back.  
He gave his usual pre-amble, the familiar routine helping to push thoughts of the pre-war woman from his mind. He turned his back to the recruits to look out over the commonwealth. As disgusting and broken as it was he felt a surge of sorrow for the people below. He wished they could understand what they were trying to achieve, and what he was willing to sacrifice. He gritted his teeth as he paused for dramatic effect.  
And then, there was the click of a door opening somewhere behind him. No doubt the unusual drifter arriving late. He made to continue his speech when only a few words in he was interrupted by the unmistakable sound of a woman swearing.  
“Fuck.” She said gently.  
And Maxson turned to see Nora standing in the doorway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dream smut? Is that a thing?  
> Also I didn't intend to end each chapter with the word Fuck but there we go.  
> Feedback welcome :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And now for something completely different.
> 
> Three young squires, who you will probably never meet again, talk about the events of that morning. And who should appear but a brand new initiate, fresh from the citadel...someone who was actually there when the drama unfurled! Exciting.
> 
> Danse makes a cameo.  
> No one can remember Macready's name.  
> Tales are told - how much is true?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's only taken me a year and a half, sorry folks.  
> I'm working on Chapter 5 as we speak, and then I'll move onto finishing off whatever else I've left hanging.

The mess hall of the Prydwen was rammed with soldiers hungry for food and information. A shockwave had run through the ship as news of that morning’s events worked its way through the ranks. Two young squires had managed to find space at the end of one of the tables and were heartily tucking into their meals when a third joined them.

“Did you guys hear?” Kim grinned as he nudged Tucker with his hip, forcing him to make room for him as he sat down, “about what happened with the new recruit, the one in the vault suit?”

 “No, what?” Gonzales asked, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. Kim’s penchant for drama had a bad habit of getting all three of them into trouble. Kim looked around in a conspiratorial manner and beckoned Tucker and Gonzales to come closer, not that anyone was paying the young squires any attention.

“You guys been under a rock all morning?” Kim leant over and made to grab Gonzales’ dessert, but she stabbed at his hand with her fork and he held his hands up in mock surrender. “As if you two haven’t heard, probably too busy being goody two shoes or making out or something. You disgust me.” He laughed, “It’s crazy, absolutely everyone’s been talking about it, even the Knights. Have you really not heard? I’ve been working cleaning detail and even I heard, you two -”

“Jesus, just tell us already.” Tucker rolled his eyes, stuffing his dessert into his pocket.

“Right, so Scribe Lewis knew one of the new citadel recruits from when he was back there, they’re like pen pals or fucking or something. Anyway, they were right there when it happened.”

“When what happened? Come on, Kim stop dragging it out, it’s getting painful now.” Gonzales threatened him with her fork, but Kim wasn’t looking at her, he’d spotted a young woman stood awkwardly looking for somewhere to sit in the crowded space.

“Holy crap there she is!” Kim slammed the table with his palm in excitement.

“Who?” Tucker asked, looking round, straining to see through the mass of bodies and power armour.

“The new recruit I was just talking about. Scribe Lewis’ friend. Hey! Initiate…” Kim swore under his breath as he tried to remember her name, “Fujita! Hey, over here!” Kim waved frantically and motioned at Gonzales to budge up to make room. The young woman looked relieved and weaved her way through the tables and soldiers to join them. Gonzales shuffled up the bench and pressed awkwardly against the scribe next to her to make room for the initiate to sit down. There was a moment of awkward silence before Initiate Fujita spoke,

“I’m sorry do I know you?” She glanced at their uniforms, her eyes lingering over their squire insignia.

“No,” offered Gonzales “But, um, Kim knows your friend? Scribe Lewis.”

Fujita blushed and turned to Kim, fighting a smile and failing.

“Tom spoke to you about me?” She asked, stirring her rations with her fork in an attempt to look casual. Kim either missed the tone of the question or didn’t care.

“Yeah he said you were there this morning when the shit went down.”

“Oh,” Fujita’s lips pursed as her back straightened. “Yes, I was there.” She pulled the ring on her can of purified water and thumbed the metal tag absentmindedly.

“Well?” Kim asked, a little too loudly. Fujita pretended she hadn’t heard him and continued to fiddle with the ring pull. Gonzales rolled her eyes before jutting her chin out at Kim.

“Fujita,” Gonzales placed a comforting hand on the new initiate’s arm “Sorry about Kim here, he’s a dick.” Kim stuck his middle finger up at Gonzales who, without bothering to look at him, made a rude gesture in return. “Scribe Lewis _was_ talking about you, wasn’t he Kim?”

Tucker punched Kim’s leg under the table as Kim started to shake his head.

“Oww-oh yeah.” He laughed awkwardly, flinching when Tucker punched him again “Yeah, you know Tom. Ol’ Tom Lewis, can’t shut him up. He er,” Kim paused, for once apparently struggling to find the words. “Oh yeah fancies you loads. Mad about you. Never stops going on about you, like how you’ve got nice handwriting and stuff. We play bingo with the stuff he comes out with, you should hear him. Goes on about how you two are like best mates, but he wants to bone you. You know, buddies with benefits.” Kim was on a run now. “Wants to be your _lover._ ” Kim purred this last word, and much to his friends’ horror he began to wiggle in his seat as he made crude motions with his hands. Fujita was staring at him incredulously, her mouth set in a small hard line.

“Mmm,” Kim moaned obnoxiously “He wants to get you off, wants to get you in a deep dark corner of the Prydwen and get himself into a different kind of deep dark corner if you get my-”

“God!” Fujita snapped at him, “Fine. I’ll tell you what happened this morning, just please, shut the fuck up.”

Kim held up his hands and smirked at Gonzales and Tucker who just shrugged in reply. They were used to Kim’s behaviour, and had built up a higher tolerance than most for his bullshit.  

“Right,” Fujita flicked the ring pull into her pocket before straightening up. “I bet you’ve heard a ton of stories about what happened this morning. But unless you actually got your intel from someone who was there then you’ve not even heard the half of it.”

Tucker and Kim leaned towards her and Gonzales felt the Scribe next to her shift, no doubt to hear them better.

“There were six of us sent over from the citadel, we travelled overnight so that we’d be here to get the tour before being inducted by Elder Maxon. As you know, it’s a long ride up from the Capital Wasteland, so we were shattered and cold and pretty much ready to just get here and get going.” The squires nodded as Fujita ate a few mouthfuls of her rations.

“So, there we are, stood on the deck after being shown around, it’s oh-seven-fifty, and we’re itching to meet Elder Maxon and stop freezing our butts off on the deck. But as we’re lining up and getting ready to go in it turns out that we’re actually still waiting on another initiate.  Well, you can imagine how happy we were to hear that. Yeah, not happy. Only, it gets worse, it wasn’t a seventh initiate from the citadel, which would have been bad enough. It was just some random civilian that had been field promoted straight to Knight!” Fujita stopped to allow this information to sink in, slurping on her water as she prodded her rations again, as if hoping that they might improve merely by being poked.

“Field promoted?” Gonzales let out a low whistle and leant back, crossing her arms and raising her eyebrows at the two boys opposite her.

“Straight to Knight?” Tucker replied as he tried to digest the information. “I didn’t even know they could do that?”

Kim laughed and puffed out his chest “I reckon they’ll do that for me when I’m old enough, I mean guys, it’s fairly obvious that I’m one of the –”

“Shut up Kim.” Tucker and Gonzales replied in unison, neither of them bothering to look at him.

Fujita waited before continuing, she was enjoying the attention from the young squires. Out of the corner of her eye she could see other initiates and scribes leaning towards them, clearly trying to hear the rest of her story.

“Yeah, they went and dropped that atom-bomb on us a few minutes before we were due to go and be sworn in. There’d been talk about whether we should wait for Paladin Danse and this new initiate, scavver, Knight, whoever, but Lancer Captain Kells didn’t want us to deviate from the schedule so we went in and lined up.”

“Wait, so he was late?” Tucker asked incredulously.

“She. And yeah, and not just a minute or two late either, Maxon was mid speech!”

A Knight a few seats down inhaled sharply in response to this, the sound travelling through the small mess hall. Fujita indulged in the growing limelight, the din in the mess hall had subsided as people strained to hear her.

“But it gets worse.” Fujita paused for effect, “So she comes through the door quiet as a radroach, barely heard her come in, and she’s not wearing Brotherhood gear. She’s in a vault suit of all things. She looks at me and then at the other initiates and pulls a face at me, like I’m supposed to know where she should go? Then…then she spots Maxon and, I swear the colour just drained from her face, then she just drops the F-bomb out of nowhere.”

“Fuck” whispered Tucker under his breath. Fujita nodded at him and began unwrapping her dessert, taking more time than was strictly necessary.

“It’s not like she shouted it or anything, but we all heard it anyway, and that’s including Elder Maxon. So, he spins round, clearly furious at being interrupted and he… well,”

“Well what?” Kim asked impatiently.

 “Did he shout at her?” Tucker asked.

“Probably didn’t have to, he’s scary enough just when he talks.” Gonzales said quietly and Tucker nodded in agreement

“Did he shoot her?” Someone jeered from the other side of the mess hall, causing an outbreak of laughter as the crowd stopped pretending not to listen.

“No!” Fujita said loudly in mock horror, enjoying the attention from the crowd, “He just stared at her for ages and then just coughed and carried on. He was so red, think the colour of a tato and you’d be halfway there. He was absolutely fuming you could just tell.”

“He just coughed? That’s it?” Gonzales looked between Fujita and Kim with an incredulous look, “This is the drama you’ve got us riled up over?” That’s it! Stop the press, Elder Maxon has a tickle in his throat! This just in! New field promotion causes Elder to cough!”

An amused chatter broke out across the room as people began to resume their previous conversations. Fujita could almost feel them lose interest, eager to keep her audience she cleared her throat before continuing.

“Of course, that’s when the shit really hit the fan.” Almost instantly Fujita felt all eyes in the room return to her. “Elder Maxon finished his speech, which was still wonderful even if _she_ had tried to ruin it by turning up late. So, he dismisses us, and we file out onto the deck not really sure what to do with ourselves. Sullivan, that’s her name, stayed behind, can’t have been for more than a few minutes and we didn’t hear shouting or anything but then she comes storming out and would you believe _she_ looks mad? So there’s the six of us kind of staring at her and she’s staring at us, then Elder Maxon comes out onto the deck. Oh yeah, I forgot to say, when we went out onto the deck Paladin Danse was there with this dirty, skinny looking guy. I thought he was a gunner at first, I’d read the intel on them before we came over. But to be honest we didn’t really pay him any attention. That is, until Elder Maxon came out, and then the skinny guy, he…well, he …”

“What?” someone asked.

Fujita’s voice was quiet when she next spoke, the room seemed to lean in to her, trying to catch her words

“Well, he started laughing.”

There was a collective gasp in the mess hall followed by an uneasy murmuring. He laughed? At the Elder? Fujita looked around nodding, as if to prove she was telling the truth.

“This guy was practically doubled over laughing, and he’s looking at Paladin Dance, and then Elder Maxon, and then Sullivan. It’s like he can’t decide who’s the funniest to look at. He’s trying to talk but he can’t because he’s laughing so hard. I swear I could see a vein pop out on Elder Maxon’s head, but him being angry just seemed to make the skinny guy laugh harder. Meanwhile, Sullivan looks mortified, turns out this guy McArdle or McNealy or something, came up onto the Prydwen with her and Danse. Don’t know if he’s her boyfriend or just a gun for hire or whatever but he’s basically in hysterics. Then he goes and points at the Elder! Points at him! So, he’s laughing, and pointing at the Elder and you can imagine we’re all horrified. I mean, they don’t train you for situations like this. But then Mackinder, the skinny guy, starts trying to talk, but he’s laughing too hard. So he’s laughing, pointing at Elder Maxon and he finally manages to gasp out ‘Elder’, ‘Him? Elder?’.”

You could have heard a bobby-pin drop in the mess at that moment. Fujita took another slurp of her purified water.

“But then, get this, Elder Maxon, cool as anything, turns to Danse and says something like,” Fujita paused before doing a rather passable impression of the Elder, “‘Paladin, I believe the deck is in need of cleaning’, and we’re looking at each other like, ‘does he mean us?’ But Paladin Danse just nods at him and picks this guy up, who’s still laughing by the way, and jumps! No word of a lie, he just walked to the edge of the deck, Ad Victorium’d at us and steps off! You should have heard the noise the McCade guy made as he went down”

Fujita picked up her fork, held it above her head and brought it down slowly, and did another impression, this time of the ex-gunner, imitating the noise he made as he fell to the commonwealth below.

The crowd roared with laughter, the tension broken by the ridiculous image of Paladin Dance dropping to the commonwealth below while holding an unruly civilian. Fujita basked in the attention, pleased that her story was going down so well.

“I thought Sullivan was going to lose it, she looked like someone had slapped her. She basically ran over to the edge and I thought for a moment she was going to jump after them, but she just stops and looks down at where Paladin Danse landed with that guy. She looks at us, looks back down at Paladin Danse, and then she starts laughing. She looked completely mad, if you ask me I–”

“I think you’ve said enough Initiate Fujita don’t you?” Paladin Danse seemed to appear out of nowhere, impressive for such a large man in a small space. There was a rush of movement as the crowd tried to look as though they hadn’t been hooked on every word. Fujita went a deep crimson colour but turned her chin up and nodded curtly. Gonzales was quietly impressed, she had expected the initiate to cringe under Paladin Danse’s stare, but she was holding her own.

“Yes, Paladin Danse. My apologies.”

“If you’re done entertaining the crew I believe you have duties to attend to?”

Fujita nodded and excused herself from the table, her head held high as she made her way out of the mess hall. Danse turned his attention to the three squires “Tucker, Gonzales, this is most unlike you. Kim,” he paused for a moment, “well this isn’t unlike you. But as squires we in the Brotherhood expect better of you.”

“Yes, Sir.” They replied in unison.

“Don’t let me catch you encouraging gossip again.”

“No, Sir.”

Danse nodded and turned to leave the mess hall. Tucker and Gonzales sighed audibly, the relief evident in their faces.

“Paladin?” Kim called, ignoring the kicks he received under the table as he shouted across the mess hall, “Did you really jump off with the MacNoodle guy?”

Knights and Scribes alike turned to look at the squire that had shouted the question, was he really brave? Or just really fucking stupid? An awkward silence filled the room as they waited for the Paladin’s reply. Kim’s cheeks reddened despite his efforts to appear nonchalant, and after what felt like an age, the Paladin replied.

“Maccready.” Danse corrected “And yes, I think you’ll find I did.”

 

 

 


End file.
